


Tomarrymort Discord House Cup (Aug. 2019)

by Chaotic_Smutty (Anna_Hopkins)



Series: Discord Prompt Fills [10]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Chaotic Smutty, Lazy Formatting, M/M, One Shot Collection, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Smut, Tags in Chapter Notes, to be corrected later
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-01
Updated: 2019-08-06
Packaged: 2020-07-28 11:14:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,377
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20063089
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anna_Hopkins/pseuds/Chaotic_Smutty
Summary: In compliance with the rules of the House Cup, my livewrites will only count toward the point total if they're posted within 24 hours of being written. ♥ And so, without further ado, I present to you:A collection of unconnected Harrymort, Tomarry, and possibly gen oneshots, such that each chapter is its own story.Chapters will have appropriate setting tags in the beginning. Warnings will be tagged in the work tags.





	1. Maquira, 7/24: College Roommates AU

**Author's Note:**

> 7/24 Prompt: College AU, Sex Toys AU, Lingerie, Walk-In-On AU, Cam-boy Harry AU, Photography AU
> 
> Harry's finally attending college. He's in a dorm with a random (frustratingly attractive) roommate, and sure, he and Riddle don't exactly _talk_. Riddle's never in their room anyways — always studying until two am at the libraries.
> 
> On the bright side? Complete and utter, sweet privacy... to _experiment_.
> 
> Harry, a virgin, has a fascination with lingerie and toys (ropes, plugs, vibrators, nipple clamps...). He's been following nude, experimental photography accounts on tumblr for ages and now he wants to try doing some self-photography himself. So he does. The only thing Harry needs to be careful of is Riddle finding _out_, but he takes all the necessary precautions. Riddle is a creature of habit, after all, and he's got the man's schedule down to a tee.
> 
> Harry starts an account. Lightning_boi is a _hit_. Then he gets into cam business. And everything is going well, insanely well, until—
> 
> _Tom banged the door open, as if in a rush._  
_"Harry, you borrowed my —"_  
_Tom froze at the sight of Harry, completely naked, presenting his lubricated arsehole to the camera at the exact moment he had been poised to shove the vibrating dildo in._

As first-year room assignments went, Harry was pretty sure he'd gotten the best deal, among his friends. Hermione had put her dentist parents' money to good use, paying for a single room in a "healthy lifestyles" building on campus -- no smoking, no drinking, no noise, sure, but then she'd found out there was no A/C. Ron's roommate Lee Jordan was great, he said, except he had a pet spider and hadn't shown it to Ron until /after/ the switching-rooms deadline was past.

Compared to either of his friends' personal hells, well. Harry was practically in heaven.

In -- ahem -- more than one way.

Tom Riddle: handsome, charming, polite -- and also absent for most of the day and night, studying in the library till it closed at 2am. Harry knew almost nothing about Riddle beyond the schedule from which he somehow /never deviated/. It was like he was possessed by a very organized demon.

So Harry might have been a bit lonely at first, but then he'd realized, he was effectively /alone/.

What was the other 'heaven' Harry was in, you ask? Well.

Harry was /eighteen/, okay, he hadn't grown up in some hellhole without porn. Quite the opposite: he'd had a lot to choose from. This wasn't 1995 -- there were sites and archives absolutely full of shit he liked. And the natural progression of having a surplus is being able to get picky.

Very picky.

He didn't just like twinks, for example. He liked twinks in lingerie, twinks with toys, twinks with...bruises. Harry only learned what 'horny on main' was after he made a second account for the /safe/ for work photo blogs.

For several years, throughout high school, really, Harry had enjoyed questionably-tasteful nude photography from a relative distance. Then, about the third day into rooming with Riddle, he realized he had enough private time that he could participate in said nude photography, instead.

So he had.

In three months, Harry had worked his way through his extended wishlist of hidden bookmarks, experimenting with all the toys, sensations and aesthetics he'd fantasized about. Riddle had never once changed his schedule in that time -- they'd exchanged about ten words since they met -- it was /glorious/.

He took it further. Started his own blog: GoldenBoy. In a month, Harry had over a thousand legitimate followers.

Riding the high of popularity, he took the next step and started camming, and /holy shit/ it was even better. He earned back all he'd spent on toys and then some -- which got spent on /more/ toys. Harry didn't have to fake his enthusiasm a single minute.

Trying out the wax candles should really have been a foreshadowing that his Icarus flight was about to come down.

Harry checked his phone. It was a little after ten-thirty. Riddle wouldn't be back till two-thirty at earliest, three at latest. He'd made his bed up neat, had the lube and the tissues on the nightstand, and there was that wonderful, new toy waiting for him in its box beside the bed. GoldenBoy was about to livestream an exploration of Bad Dragon's latest wild creation, and he was /ready/.

He put his glasses away in the nightstand drawer, switched on the mood lighting, and hit 'start streaming'.

"Hey, everybody," 'GoldenBoy' laughed, shyly averting his gaze from the camera. "That toy I was talking about last week came in. I actually managed to get it in /gold/. I haven't opened the box yet, so you're going to see it right when I do."

Harry really hadn't opened the box yet, this was true. He had, however, blotted out the shipping label, as was common sense.

Lifting the box, Harry observed, "you know, it's heavier than usual. Maybe they sent me an extra, since I keep buying? I'm going to need another bottle of cumlube soon, so that would be a plus --"

He lifted the toy out of the box, and blinked at it, eyes wide.

"Oh. I think they gave me the wrong size."

Harry swallowed thickly, flushing. "Um." He wasn't usually lost for words on stream, but could anyone blame him when the dildo was as thick as his wrist?

"Fuck, I like it anyway," he muttered under his breath.

He glanced up at the screen and realized they'd heard that -- the chat was blowing up with chants of "put it in".

"...Okay," Harry agreed, a little breathless. "I can do this." He reached for the bottle of lube. "I stretched myself a bit before the stream thinking I could just put it right in, but that was when I expected something smaller. So...uh...just a minute --"

The audience liked watching him finger himself open, of course, and so did Harry. Especially when that one VIP viewer who was really generous with his donations showed up.

Harry might have been planning to entertain that viewer specifically, with the "putting it in right away" thing. They really seemed to like when he cried --

"Even if I prepare myself," Harry groaned, arching up into his fingers, "it might still hurt."

[Lord_Voldemort donated $10. ♥]

"Ah, fuck. Thank you. Just another minute, I promise."

Harry had his phone propped up so he could see the chat window. Lord_Voldemort was the only VIP regular with green text in the chat box, so he spotted the reply pretty quickly -- [I've got time.]

"Unf. I'm -- I'm glad, yeah. You're so good to me, all of you, thank you for waiting..." Harry let out a little sigh as he worked a smaller toy in and out for a minute, opening himself up. He rolled onto his back, legs spread wide for the camera, and pulled it out, setting it aside to be cleaned.

He retrieved the half-empty bottle of cumlube and slathered it generously on the end of the new toy, biting his lip at the size of it. "Okay, I'm as ready as I'm going to get, and -- I really want this inside me," Harry admitted, feeling the flush on his cheeks.

[Lord_Voldemort donated $10. ♥]

Harry got up on his knees so he was situated just over the toy.

[Lord_Voldemort: One second, I don't want to miss this.]

"Ah...okay, I can wait," Harry promised, voice strained.

No sooner had he said that than the door to the room slammed open -- "oh no," Harry breathed -- and Riddle rushed in, eyes on his phone, "Harry, have you seen my --"

The other boy looked up, freezing just out of view of the camera, thankfully. "--phone...charger..." he trailed off.

"Um." Was all Harry said.

Riddle flushed redder than Harry already had. "Fuck," he muttered, absently closing the door behind him (thank goodness nobody had passed by in the hall in the past thirty seconds).

Harry was absolutely mortified. "I haven't seen it anywhere," he started to say, and then Riddle cut him off, eyes gone round as saucers as he looked Harry up and down, glancing at his phone and back at Harry again.

"You're /GoldenBoy,/" Riddle blurted out.

Harry was never going to live this down. "Uh, yeah."

Riddle looked back at his phone and tapped something on the screen.

A soft chime alerted Harry to another donation -- [Lord_Voldemort donated $10. ♥]

/Wait a minute./

"...You're /Lord_Voldemort/."

Riddle coughed, embarrassed. "Ah, yes, I am."

Harry glanced at his phone to see the chat blowing up. He'd almost forgotten he was on stream, besides the cool wetness of the lube dripping down his thighs.

Oh, right. He was still completely naked.

"This is a bit awkward," Harry observed mildly, running a (slightly lube-sticky) hand through his hair. "I'm kind of in the middle of something."

"...I know," Riddle deadpanned. "I can go..."

The words were out of Harry's mouth before he could think them over. "I wouldn't mind if you stayed."

Riddle was always wearing such tight pants. At the moment, Harry could see how his cock twitched under the fabric.

(Harry was harder than he expected to be in this situation, too.)

Eventually, Harry glanced back at the camera. He definitely wasn't thinking of Riddle where he was leaning back against the door, watching wide-eyed, as he closed his eyes and began to sink down onto the toy.

"Fuck," he gasped, "That's big. That's big."

[Lord_Voldemort donated $10. ♥]

(Harry flicked his eyes over to the door. Riddle had his phone plugged in and was watching it on there.)

He wasn't exaggerating about the size of the toy, either. "/Oh,/" Harry hissed out between gritted teeth, then gasped, "oh, /yes/."

It was filling him up so /good/ and it was barely two inches in. Harry shuddered pleasurably, clenching his hands in the bedspread as he sank lower.

"It's so /thick,/" Harry groaned, letting out an honest whimper. "Ah --"

[Lord_Voldemort donated $10. ♥]

Harry glanced over at Riddle, meaning to ask why he was being so generous, and ended up making eye contact. Riddle had taken himself in hand and was jerking off, slowly, biting his lip against making a sound.

The intensity of his gaze made Harry's cock twitch, and he sank a little lower, just enough that the toy rubbed against his prostate.

"/Fuuuck,/" Harry's back arched, feeling his eyes welling up, "Oh that feels so good." He pulled himself up and sank down again, going deeper this time. "Unnhf."

Riddle's breath hitched in the background. Harry felt it as heat pooling down in his stomach.

He wanted -- he wanted Riddle over here. Harry tried to stave off that train of thought by grinding down on the toy and giving himself a few little jerks.

"It's gonna hurt if I go any further," Harry informed the audience.

He lifted himself up again, with a loud squelching noise that was frankly obscene in the silence of the room.

"I want it to hurt," he admitted, and dropped himself down hard.

Oh fuck, fuck, it /did/ hurt. "Aah," Harry gasped, "ah -- so wide -- /fuck/, fuck me, it hurts, it hurts --"

[Lord_Voldemort donated $10. ♥]

Harry's eyes rolled back in his head. "Hh...harder," he begged, feeling the tears on his cheeks. "Please," he whispered, just loud enough for the mic to pick up.

[Lord_Voldemort: Are you asking *me*?]

"V-Voldemort," Harry hiccupped, grinding down again, "please --"

Riddle set his phone aside, and advanced on Harry from the opposite side of the room. He remained offscreen when he asked, "Do you really want me to?"

"/Yes,/" Harry gasped, "yes, come over here --"

Riddle took another step into view of the camera. Harry could see the chat moving really fast all of a sudden, too fast to read from where he was sitting.

"GoldenBoy," Riddle murmured, "turn over for me."

Harry wasn't sure if he could have done anything else, when that voice told him so. He'd barely interacted with Riddle since they'd met; and /now/ he found out the man's voice was hot.

"Yes, sir," he breathed, collapsing onto the bed. "Fuck, I'll do anything you tell me. You should -- hnng -- do videos, yourself. Just talking."

Riddle interrupted the rest of his lust-hazed monologue by taking hold of the toy and pulling it forcefully out of him. Harry could feel his cock leaking against the sheets.

The mattress sank on either side of Harry, and he felt the brush of fabric against his sides. Oh. Riddle was straddling him. "Fuck me," Harry moaned, clutching at the pillow. "Voldemort, please, make it hurt --"

He felt the head of the toy pressing against his hole. "If you're going to moan my name," Riddle murmured, "Then use the other one."

"W-what other one?" Harry asked, panting.

Riddle's free hand squeezed one of Harry's arse cheeks. Hard. Oh, that felt good. It might even bruise. "This is hilarious," the man muttered. "Neither of us knew, then?"

"Knew what?" Harry attempted to arch up against the toy. "Just tell me what to call you --"

"I'm /Death Eater,/" Riddle told him, and thrusted the toy in hard, ramming it right up against Harry's prostate.

Harry bit the pillow and screamed.

For all that Harry had fucked himself with toys, he'd never done any of this with someone else. He'd /imagined/ it, sure, but hadn't thought he'd ever actually do it.

Hadn't thought it would feel this /good/.

"Death Eater --" he sobbed, "sir, please --"

The angle was one Harry had never been able to manage with this much force. It felt like he was being hammered open -- hitting his good spots on every thrust. He tried to move his hips into it, but Riddle was having none of it; he actually slapped Harry on the opposite cheek when he tried.

Harry couldn't have kept that moan stifled if they were paying him to.

"That's right," Riddle was murmuring, "take it, be good for me," Harry could feel his erection pressing against his back, "you like that, GoldenBoy?"

"I like it," Harry panted, "I -- I love it --"

"I've seen all your videos," Riddle continued, "every -- last -- one," fucking in on each word. "Staying out late to watch and you were /here all along/, can't believe my fucking luck,"

"Ha-arder," Harry begged, "Gonna --"

Riddle abruptly pulled the toy out completely, leaving Harry open and gaping in the air. "No you're not," he growled, and Harry felt it go right to his cock.

"You're not coming till I'm inside you."

Harry was /gone/.

Tom took the time to set the golden dildo on the nightstand beside the other one GoldenBoy had been using, moving off his roommate to sit on the edge of the bed. He glanced over at Harry's phone, at the chat still blowing up, and smirked, just out of view of the camera.

With meticulous attention to detail, he removed his shoes and unzipped his pants again -- having tucked himself in earlier before appearing on screen. The viewer count was still increasing as he unbuttoned several buttons on his shirt and rolled up his sleeves; he glanced sultrily into the camera with a dark smirk, before turning his attention back to the shaking, panting boy on his stomach on the bed.

Effortlessly, he lifted Harry up in his arms, and sat down heavily in the middle of the bed with his legs spread. "W-whoa," GoldenBoy stammered, "how did you --"

Tom shushed him, running a hand down his naked back. "Never mind that," he purred in Harry's ear. "Look down."

He heard, with much satisfaction, his roommate's gasp as he saw Tom's cock poking out of his pants. "Oh my god," Harry breathed. "It's /huge./"

Tom smirked. "It is, isn't it?"

Then he turned Harry around, so the camera could see him, and lowered him down onto his cock.

That he slid right in without much resistance was a testament to just how large the toy had been, and how hard Tom had been fucking him with it. He didn't hold back the satisfied sigh as he slid in to the hilt, feeling heat and the slick silky muscle enclosing around him. "That's nice," Tom observed, rolling his hips.

Harry's answering groan was music to his ears.

Tom reached around, now, to slide his hands up from Harry's hips to his nipples, and pinch and pull at them while he fucked into Harry nice and slow. The little choked-off whines and whimpers of moments before became full-on cries, and Tom recognized the familiar sound of GoldenBoy crying as he tormented him more. And the way his insides clenched rhythmically around Tom's cock...

"Still want to come?" Tom asked in Harry's ear. He rested his cheek against Harry's, smirking into the camera while he continued to tease him.

"Y-/yes,/" GoldenBoy sobbed, "Please, please, I'm so close!"

Tom moved back on the bed a bit, so there was space, then laid a hand between Harry's shoulderblades and pushed him down again. "Hands and knees," he ordered, not pulling out.

His roommate scrambled to obey. The sight of him laid out beneath Tom was getting him extremely hard.

"Good," Tom praised him. "Look up and let them see your face while I fuck you to pieces."

It didn't take much. Harry had the most beautiful expression as Tom took advantage of the new angle to fuck him hard and deep. He could feel his own appearance becoming disheveled as he went on, and for once, didn't care; there was only Harry, and Harry's dripping, needy hole, and Harry's pleas of his name -- "/Death Eater/ -- Sir -- please, /Sir/ --"

GoldenBoy's orgasm came just as Tom was about to go over the edge, and he groaned, low and rumbling, at the way it squeezed around him, pulling him in, /milking him dry/. "You're lucky I was about to let you come anyway," Tom slurred, biting gently on Harry's shoulder. "Good boy...golden boy."

Harry groaned in lieu of a reply, lifting an arm weakly in the direction of the camera.

"Good night," Tom said to the audience on behalf of both of them, and hit 'end stream' on Harry's phone.

Then he pulled out of Harry and rolled off of him to lie half-against the wall.

" 'm goin' t'sleep," Harry yawned. "C'n we...talk about this...'n th'mornin'?"

"Yes," Tom yawned, too. "Good night, Harry."

"G'night, Tom."

\- end -


	2. Livewrite, 8/05-8/06

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tags: Canon Divergence Book 7, Smut, Porn With Plot, Mild Angst, Mild Dubcon, Begging, First Time, Possessive Behavior, Bottom Harry
> 
> Summary: Harry saw the truth of his fate in Snape's memories. He thought he was prepared to walk to his death. But saying and doing are different things, and fate need not be so cruel...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally supposed to be a crack prompt, this became angst-then-smut instead. One of my longest livewrites to date, in fact. Oof.
> 
> Forgive my lazy formatting. ♥ I'm posting this right before bed. Actually-italicized portions (at the moment) are snippets from canon.

_ He moved on, and now he reached the edge of the forest, and he stopped. _

_ A swarm of dementors was gliding amongst the trees; he could feel their chill, and he was not sure he would be able to pass safely through it. He had no strength left for a Patronus. He could no longer control his own trembling. It was not, after all, so easy to die. Every second he breathed, the smell of the grass, the cool air on his face, was so precious: To think that people had years and years, time to waste, so much time it dragged, and he was clinging to each second. At the same time he thought that he would not be able to go on, and knew that he must. The long game was ended, the Snitch had been caught, it was time to leave the air... _

_ The Snitch. His nerveless fingers fumbled for a moment with the pouch at his neck and he pulled it out. _

_ /I open at the close./ _

_ Breathing fast and hard, he stared down at it. Now that he wanted time to move as slowly as possible, it seemed to have sped up, and understanding was coming so fast it seemed to have bypassed thought. This was the close. This was the moment. _

_ He pressed the golden metal to his lips, and whispered, "I am about to die." _

_ The metal shell broke open. He lowered his shaking hand, raised Draco's wand beneath the Cloak, and murmured, "Lumos." _

_ The black stone with its jagged crack running down the center sat in the two halves of the Snitch. The Resurrection Stone had cracked down the vertical line representing the Elder Wand. The triangle and circle representing the Cloak and the stone were still discernible. _

So this had been a Horcrux, once, he thought. A shred of Voldemort's power, contained within this symbol of the impossibility of resurrection. Of the world of the dead being just-out-of-reach.

/And there is another shred of that power in me, still,/ Harry mused, tracing his scar with a fingertip of his free hand. The finger came away a bit bloodied, as he'd expected.

/I've never really used it, have I?/

But then, he /had/, hadn't he, every time he spoke Parseltongue? Harry continued to creep through the undergrowth, getting further and further from the dementors at the treeline. He'd freed that snake at the zoo. He'd heard the Basilisk in the walls. He'd spoken to the cobra Malfoy had conjured --

Harry stopped short, looking down at the wand in his hand. Malfoy's wand. An idea came to him.

What was that spell, again? Malfoy had cast it as a second-year; it couldn't be harder than a Patronus, and Harry was feeling stronger the further he got from the dementors. He leaned back against a tree, thinking.

Ah. That was it. "Serpensortia," Harry murmured under his breath, holding out the wand close to the ground. There was a faint wordless hissing, and a dark shape emerged from the end of the wand to coil on the ground.

"/Where am I --/" the snake spat, looking around, until its eyes seemed to fix on Harry's in the low light that reached them through the canopy. "/It'sss you, again,/" it hissed, sounding almost amused. "/Sspeaker. Sso you have ssummoned me, thiss time./"

Harry blinked down at it. Was this the same cobra as in second year? (Did the spell always summon the same snake or was it a fluke?)

"/...Hello,/" he said, a bit surprised. "/I have, yess. Can you, erm, ssend a messsage?"

"/If the receiver also Sspeakss, of coursse,/" the cobra allowed. "/They are in thisss foresst, I hope?/"

This was going a lot better than Harry had anticipated, frankly. He hadn't thought he would get this far. "/He iss, yess. Ssomewhere further in./"

The cobra uncoiled itself, slithering up Harry's leg and waist until it was around his shoulders. Harry held himself very still, pulse racing. "/Sso,/" the snake hissed in his ear, "/What do you want me to ssay?/"

/How did it get through the Cloak, anyways,/ Harry wondered as he thought up his message.

"/I'm not ssure, yet,/" he murmured eventually, taking care not to jar his passenger as he resumed a steady pace further into the trees. "/It'ss jusst...I'm ssuppossed to die, at his handss./"

"/What? Why?/" the cobra exclaimed, shocked. "/That'ss sstupid./"

"/It'ss the only way to kill him,/" Harry insisted, biting his lip. "/It hass to be done./"

"/Then I'll jusst bite him,/" the cobra snapped, shifting where it lay on Harry's shoulders. "/Sspeaker or not, he will fall to my fangss./"

"/No, no,/" Harry shook his head. "/His body will die, but he will ssurvive. And come back angrier than before./"

"/Fine, then,/" the cobra whined, "/Ssuffer your way, ssilly Sspeaker. What do you want me to ssay to thiss foe of yourss, then?/"

Harry stopped again, looking up through the canopy at the stars overhead, or what he could see of them. "/That'ss the problem, I sstill don't know./"

Then, up ahead a ways, he heard the faint echoes of voices. "/Him and his followerss are over there,/" Harry realized, surprised. "/Sshit./"

"/Sspeaker,/" the cobra asked quietly, "/Did you ever have a messsage, or did you jusst want companionsship?/"

Harry took a steadying breath. "/No, I...I do have a messsage./" If he'd just wanted companions, he could have used the Stone the way instinct had been about to tell him -- could have, he imagined, called up the shades of his parents, of Sirius, of Remus, to walk with him. No, he hadn't wanted companionship. He'd wanted...

"/I want to live./"

"/Okay, I'll tell them,/" the cobra said, already unwinding from Harry's shoulders.

"/Wait!/" Harry nearly shouted. He'd been about to tell the cobra not to say that -- but he faltered, and the words that came out of his mouth instead were, "/Tell it to Voldemort. He'll be the one that lookss mosst like a ssnake./"

The cobra was off, and Harry followed behind it as quietly as he could.

_ Two figures emerged from behind a nearby tree: their wands flared, and Harry saw Yaxley and Dolohov peering into the darkness, directly at the place Harry stood. Apparently they could not see anything. _

_ "Definitely heard something," said Yaxley. "Animal, d'you reckon?" _

The cobra reared up, looking at them, and the wizards froze, long enough for it to pass through. "Oh," muttered one of them, "must be one of the Dark Lord's scouts."

Harry followed after them, closer and closer to where Voldemort must be -- and found himself at the edge of a familiar clearing. /This is where Aragog was,/ he realized. There were certainly shreds of webbing and a few Acromantula corpses at the far edge of the clearing, now that he looked.

More importantly was the group assembled in the middle, however: Death Eaters, some with their hoods up, others showing their faces. Harry only recognized a couple, more interested in that which they had all fixed their eyes upon -- the Dark Lord, seated on a conjured throne, and the cobra that had just approached him.

"/Other-Sspeaker,/" the cobra called, "/I have a messsage./"

Behind the throne, Nagini coiled, seeming to glare at the snake; Voldemort raised a hand to her side, petting her scales with long fingers. "/At easse, Nagini,/" he murmured. Red eyes gazed down at the cobra, curious. "/Who ssent you, ssmall thing? What do they ssay?/"

"/Sspeaker who ssummoned me gives no name, but smellss a bit like you,/" the cobra answered. "/and he says, 'I want to live'./”

"What." It was said in English, with such anger that the Death Eaters all flinched.

"/He ssays nothing elsse, then?/" Voldemort turned back to the cobra, eyes narrowed.

"/Nothing,/" the cobra agreed, coiling up by the fire. "/Sspeaker is hiding in the treess, you can talk to him yoursself./"

Harry paled. It wasn't like he'd told the cobra not to say anything else, but now Voldemort was peering into the edges of the clearing, rising from his throne.

"Death Eaters," the Dark Lord hissed in English, "Remain behind. Especially you, Bella. Rendezvous at dawn."

They watched, eyes wide, as he swept out of the clearing in three strides, leaving behind even Nagini, into the trees not far from where Harry stood.

Voldemort set a leisurely pace away from his followers, not once turning to see if they had disobeyed him and followed -- they hadn't. Harry followed, even more quietly than before, almost disconnected from his body, so nervous was he.

After a time, the Dark Lord stopped, and turned, looking directly at where Harry was. "/Sso,/" he murmured. "/You want to live./"

Harry swallowed, then reached to pull off the Cloak, stepping closer. "/I do,/" he agreed quietly. "/I'm.../" he averted his eyes. "/I'm sscared./" Had his voice always sounded so small and weak?

But it was true. Now that he'd admitted it out loud, Harry began to shiver, leaning against one of the trees. "/I don't want to die,/" he said, looking back up at Voldemort, who was staring at him with an odd expression.

"/To think,/" Voldemort murmured, approaching him, "/that thiss is what it comes to, in the end./" One pale hand rose to Harry's face, tracing over his scar, which burned at the contact. Harry gritted his teeth against the pain, but did not close his eyes. "/You would beg for your life, Harry Potter? Yourss alone?/"

The burning sensation began to diminish into a dull ache. /In the end,/ he was saying. So Harry was still going to die.

"/Please,/" he choked out, eyes watering. All Gryffindor courage had abandoned him, now; there was only Slytherin self-preservation.

Was that satisfaction, glimmering in the Dark Lord's red eyes? He did look almost smug, running his thumb over Harry's cheek, tracing the line of a stray tear that had escaped his eyes. The headache was fading, too, now. All he could hear was his own shuddering breaths, and the wind rustling the leaves on the trees.

"/There is no need to fear, Harry,/" Voldemort whispered, tilting Harry's chin up with a finger. "/You know what you are, by now?/"

Harry nodded, or attempted to. "/A Horcrux,/" he answered.

"/Not only a Horcrux,/" the Dark Lord leaned in closer, black robes enveloping them, "/but my Horcrux. *Mine.*/"

"/Yours,/" Harry echoed uncertainly, then jolted at the foreign pleasure piercing through him over their link. Was Voldemort -- getting off, on this?

He got his answer in the next moment, with the press of dry lips to his cheek. Harry felt the heat wash over his skin in a wave, heard Voldemort's low chuckle against his ear. "/My Harry,/" the Dark Lord purred, another burst of pleasure crossing the link.

Another kiss to the center of his forehead, and Harry's knees buckled underneath him, sending him falling forward into dark robes. An arm caught him around the waist. "/What is this,/" he managed to choke out, grasping at the fabric. /What are you going to do to me,/ he did not dare ask.

"/Would you believe me if I called it peace negotiations?/" Voldemort wondered, pulling Harry close against him. This close, their height difference had Harry's face pressed into the Dark Lord's chest, over his heart.

Harry swallowed, mouth gone dry. His own heart was beating rabbit-fast in his chest. "/It doesn't feel like we're negotiating,/" he disagreed quietly, stifling a gasp as the arm around his waist slid lower.

"/True,/" Voldemort laughed softly. "/The negotiations will come after...surrendering./"

"/Oh,/" was all Harry could say, feeling the lustful connotations of that last word low in his stomach.

"/First, a change of location,/" Voldemort said. In between one blink and the next, he was Apparating them out of the forest. Harry, already wrapped up in his arms, simply leaned into the Dark Lord's robes, and did not fall over on landing as he so often did.

The arms around Harry released him, and he backed up a step -- promptly knocking into and falling onto a large and comfortable bed. He blinked up at an ornate ceiling, framed by the bedposts and curtains, and realized that yes, this was precisely the surrender Voldemort had meant.

His heart jumped into his throat, but the anticipation flooding him was, this time, his own.

He sat up, palms sinking into the overstuffed duvet, to see Voldemort watching him with unveiled interest. "Green really does suit you nicely, my Harry," the Dark Lord said in English -- voice no longer the high, cold one he used in battle, but the deep, rich murmur Harry knew only from Pensieve memories. He bit his lip, averting his eyes, and felt himself blushing already.

/His/ Harry. It shouldn't have turned him on nearly as much as it did, to hear his nemesis talk to him that way.

"...What do you, erm, want me to do?" Harry asked, glancing at the floor while he pushed one shoe off with the other. When he looked up again it was to see Voldemort removing his cloak, hanging it on the corner of one bedpost. Underneath, the Dark Lord's black robes were rather tight-fitting, showing off his lean figure in a very flattering way.

Had Voldemort's pale hands always been so shapely, Harry wondered, and he was just seeing it now, as they undid the buttons on one layer of the Dark Lord's robes? The fabric fell away, revealing a sheer underlayer that shimmered in the lantern light, and Harry couldn't keep his eyes away from the places where it clung, glossy like paint and just as skin-tight, against white scaled skin.

"Make yourself comfortable," was the reply, as Voldemort shrugged out of the underlayer as well -- standing, now, half-naked in black pants of the same material as the outer robes. Harry's breath hitched at the sight of so much skin; he'd only previously seen the Dark Lord nude, or close to it, just after his resurrection, and he looked...different now. More alluring.

(Oh Merlin, Harry had just called Voldemort alluring. He was done for.)

Harry blinked several times, trying to focus on the task of undressing himself and failing utterly. He couldn't tear his eyes away long enough to do more than shrug out of the coat he'd been wearing, and fumble at the zipper of the jacket underneath. Perhaps if he'd not been wearing the extra layers, he might not be feeling as warm as he was.

Eventually, he was spared the rest of the challenge: Voldemort loomed over him, leaning on one hand that brushed against Harry's leg where it rested on the edge of the bed, and looked him up and down. "Clever boy," the Dark Lord praised lowly, "how did you know I was looking forward to this part myself?"

When a hand reached up to pull down the zipper on Harry's jacket, he flinched, inhaling sharply through his nose, and held very still, feeling his pulse race.

The tension seemed to amuse Voldemort; he lowered the zipper pull very slowly, and at the bottom of the jacket, let the back of his hand brush against Harry's clothed thigh. "So nervous, my Harry," he crooned. "It is not as though I'll eat you, hm? Well...unless you like that sort of thing."

Harry flushed a brilliant scarlet, he was sure, expression possibly affronted, more likely merely wide-eyed. The Dark Lord was leering at him, highly entertained by his reaction. "N-no thanks," Harry managed to say. /Please don't eat me./

"Mm, a pity," Voldemort supposed, watching him shrug out of the jacket. Now Harry had only his t-shirt, sweat-damp as it was, and his jeans. "You might have grown fond of my tongue."

"Wait," Harry gasped, as cool fingertips slid up under his shirt, "did you mean eating literally, or --?"

Red eyes fairly glittered with mirth. "Oh, Harry," Voldemort breathed, "have you had no experience at all?" He tugged Harry's shirt up to his navel, blowing air on his lower abdomen, and Harry bit back a sound at the sensation of it.

"I've -- kissed before," Harry protested, words catching in his throat as the hand on his stomach rose higher, under his shirt, to thumb over one nipple. "Ah --"

"Only kissed?" The lips that had kissed Harry's face minutes earlier were now so close to Harry's mouth that he could feel them brushing his lips as the words were spoken. Voldemort let his nipple be, thankfully, and pulled the shirt up until it could go no further, scrunched up at his collarbone, exposing his chest to the air. "Such /purity/, dear martyr."

Harry would have complained at being teased for his virginity, but lost his words to a moan at the slide of knuckles down the center-line of his chest and stomach, down to the button on his jeans. The Dark Lord was -- "Ah!" -- palming the half-hard bulge in his trousers, as he unfastened the button and pulled down the zipper.

"A coincidence, I'm sure," Voldemort continued, "but you have saved yourself for me all the same."

"How does it work, anyway," Harry asked in a strained voice as he lifted his hips so Voldemort could pull down his trousers to his knees, curling and uncurling his toes. "Between two wizards, I mean."

"I am glad you asked," said Voldemort, lifting one of Harry's legs to pull the jeans off, and then the other. Draco's wand clattered to the floor with the clothing; Harry didn't spare it a single thought as the Dark Lord attended to his socks, hooking a finger under the elastic and pulling each one off with particular enthusiasm. He actually /kissed/ the bottom of Harry's right foot, to Harry's utter confusion -- then his ankle, then his calf, then the underside of his knee, raising Harry's leg up as he went. Against Harry's inner thigh, there was a brush of tongue -- Harry gasped, throwing his head back against the pillowy duvet. He wondered what he looked like, like this.

"It will be my pleasure to demonstrate."

The hand under Harry's knee let go, and Voldemort moved around on the bed to lift Harry bodily and move him further up, placing him closer to the headboard so he could reach the pillows if he wished. Once again, Harry was staring up at the ceiling, but only until the Dark Lord laid several pillows under his head, neck and shoulders, propping him up. "What a sight you are, my Harry," he praised, kissing up Harry's stomach to his collarbone in the same straight line his hand had descended earlier. Arms caged Harry in on either side, and once again, their mouths were close enough to kiss, if only Harry leaned in just a little bit --

And so he did, this time, feeling bolder than he had earlier. Voldemort hummed happily at the chaste press of their mouths, and opened his first, encouragingly tilting his head --

/Oh./ It was unlike anything Harry had done with Ginny, even if the motions were fundamentally the same. Voldemort let Harry explore his mouth first, before he moved his own tongue; it wasn't forked, like Harry had vaguely expected, but felt and tasted, well, normal, much as Harry hated using that word to describe things.

Harry found that his arms had risen of their own accord to wrap around the Dark Lord's shoulders, pulling himself up to deepen the kiss further. He was moaning into it, one hand sliding up to feel the back of Voldemort's hairless (not bald -- he had scales, not skin, after all) head, and as his fingers traced the lobe of one ear, he heard and felt an answering moan, felt one of Voldemort's hands around his back to hold him while the other tangled in his hair.

Gradually, Voldemort lowered them back down against the pillows, and leaned back to break for air, trailing his tongue over Harry's bottom lip. "Shall I continue?" he asked, as if Harry would deny him whatever it was he wanted.

Wordless, Harry nodded, letting go of the Dark Lord's shoulders; his arms fell back against the bed with a soft thump. It was really a comfortable bed, Harry thought dazedly, before his attention was redirected to the tongue trailing down his neck, over his nipples again -- why did that feel so good -- and down lower, lower even, to the waistband of Harry's old, worn briefs.

He couldn't help himself -- he bucked his hips up, clenching at the bedding with another sound, and fingers swiftly tugged the underwear down and off of him, exposing his erection to the air.

"Exquisite," Voldemort said quietly, appreciatively, and Harry couldn't hide the way that made his cock twitch, much as he couldn't contain his reaction to the slide of that hot tongue up the length of his shaft to the tip, or the way his eyes watered when the tip of the Dark Lord's tongue licked into the slit on the head. He cried out, arching his back, and covered his face with one arm, embarrassed at just how loud he'd moaned.

And then that mouth was descending over him, the Dark Lord taking him into his throat, hot and wet and /tight/, and Harry let tears roll down his cheeks, reaching his hand down, not sure whether he wanted to push him away or hold him there, it was like nothing Harry had ever felt in his life --

"/Aah,/' he heard himself saying, "Feels so -- good, oh --"

His arm ended up falling uselessly against the duvet before his hand could do anything of significance; Harry trembled under Voldemort's ministrations, hips held down by the Dark Lord's hands. He couldn't lift himself up even to look, so boneless was Harry going with pleasure.

Before it became too much, just as Harry thought he was starting to get close to coming, the mouth pulled away, hands sliding down over Harry's legs, spreading them. "Do you recall," Voldemort murmured against his skin, "what I said about 'eating' you, earlier?"

"A little," Harry admitted, but he'd honestly quite forgotten the details.

"If you are amenable, then," the Dark Lord continued, "I would turn you over," one hand went under Harry to grope his bum, "and plunge my tongue inside."

"/Oh,/" Harry gasped, realizing, finally, what 'eating' meant. "But it's not clean," he murmured uncertainly.

"No matter," Voldemort promised, "I will cast a spell to make it so, if you permit this at all."

Harry took a shuddering breath. "...All right," he eventually agreed.

He let Voldemort turn him over, still too loose-limbed to be of much help; the Dark Lord set a pillow under Harry's hips, which shortly grew damp from how his cock leaked onto it, and spread Harry's knees apart a bit. The faint tingling of a cleaning spell around and inside of him was oddly pleasurable, Harry found, and then he lost his train of thought, because hands were spreading his cheeks, exposing his pink pucker to the air, and /that tongue was sliding up and over him there,/ how did it feel so good --

"Mmh," Harry muffled his voice in the pillow at first, but soon turned his head to breathe, instead, and let himself be heard. He trembled, feeling the tip of that tongue slip inside, just a little bit, stretching him in a way he'd never been before. It was -- it was supposed to be dirty, but he knew it was clean, "oh, please, please," Harry was begging for something but he didn't know what specifically he wanted, just, "more, aah, feels, more --!"

He pressed back against the slick intrusion, all too aware of the wet stain on both the pillow and his stomach where his cock was leaking fluid, and felt the Dark Lord's tongue push deeper, opening him around it, licking his insides. /You might have grown fond of my tongue,/ he recalled now, deep in the throes of this new sensation, and oh, Merlin, that was one way to put it, he'd grown /fond/ of it already.

Then, Voldemort pulled back, leaving Harry feeling almost bereft. "My Harry," he spoke, a hunger in his words, "there is more I have not yet shared with you that I wish to."

"Please," Harry gasped, "Anything you like."

He heard the Dark Lord's breath catch, heard a shuddering exhale. Heard the rustling of fabric as Voldemort pulled off his trousers. "Anything," he echoed, "oh, my Harry..."

This time, what pressed against and into Harry was not a tongue, but, he realized, a slicked-up finger, exploring deeper than the tongue had gone. He dug his fingers into the bedding, toes curling; it felt strange, but he still enjoyed it. The finger slid in and out, making small, wet noises, and then it was joined by a second, the two beginning to stretch him open inside. "F..feels weird," Harry said, "but why..?"

A third finger inside, soon, and then he had his answer -- in the form of a touch to something inside him that made Harry feel like he was made of jelly, crumpling down onto the pillow with a cry.

The fingers inside him didn't let up; they were rubbing around the center of that intensely pleasurable place, sending jolts of near-electric energy through him. He was leaking more fluid against his stomach and the pillow, gripping the bedding so hard he worried it might tear, and -- "More," Harry cried, "please, please, more --"

The Dark Lord took his fingers out. "My Harry," he breathed, "you shall have all that I can give you."

Voldemort moved closer on the bed, now; a hand came to rest on Harry's lower back. He felt more of the slippery fluid being poured over his arse, and then something pressed up against him, body-hot and wider than the fingers from before, and Harry realized what was about to happen.

"Oh, /yes,/" he gasped out, feeling heat spread over his skin in a renewed flush. "Yes, yes --"

The pleasure shared over their mind-link had been going mostly one-way for a while, not that Harry had done it intentionally. Now he was feeling the hot anticipation coming from the Dark Lord, the indescribable desire that accompanied the slow, steady press of his thick cock inside of Harry. It was...it was the best, and he hadn't even touched Harry in that spot he'd felt with the fingers.

Impatient, Harry rocked his hips back, trying to take more, and the Dark Lord /moaned/, his hands going to Harry's hips to hold onto him. "/Harry,/" he groaned, pulling back to thrust in deeper, "my Harry..."

He was all the way in on the next thrust -- Harry felt the slap of skin against skin, just as much as he felt the head of Voldemort's cock rubbing up against him in that spot. He threw his head back, crying out.

There was nothing like this in the world, Harry thought, as they began to move together, meeting thrust-for-thrust; as the hands on Harry's hips moved to brace on either side of Harry on the bed and the Dark Lord bent over him, fucking harder. Somewhere in the midst of it all, hearing Voldemort moaning his name, Harry groaned out, "my Lord."

The Dark Lord froze, for a moment, surprised, and Harry felt the wave of arousal through him even stronger than what he'd felt before, through their link.

He said it again -- "my Lord, aah," -- begging /harder/, /more/, and Voldemort complied immediately, fucking him harder, rougher, pressing him bodily into the bed. The merciless press of his cock against what Harry would later learn was his prostate had Harry insensate with pleasure, crying and drooling against the pillow by his face, and so close, so close to coming --

Harry attempted to say so, but before he could, he'd already begun, clenching around the Dark Lord's cock as his own twitched, spilling white over the deep green sheets. Voldemort's arms came up to hold Harry tightly around the chest as he fucked in once, twice, thrice, and shuddered against him, pulsing deep inside with his own seed.

He eased himself out of Harry, then, and flopped bonelessly onto the bed beside him, breathing heavily. Harry turned onto his side, ignoring the way wet fluid dripped out of his arse, to face him, smiling dazedly.

"I've...surrendered," Harry panted, covering his yawn in his hand.

"Mn, negotiate tomorrow," Voldemort yawned, reaching over to pull Harry closer against him. He summoned his wand from elsewhere in the room, and directed several cleaning spells around them. Shortly, they were tucked in under cool sheets, on clean pillows, in what had to be the most comfortable bed Harry had ever slept in.

Because he /was/ sleeping. Or he would be in just a moment.

Epilogue.

When his Lord did not return after an hour, Lucius glanced at his Mark, inexplicably paranoid about a repeat of the 1981 Incident. But nothing changed that he could sense; and the Death Eaters sounded a retreat as ordered when dawn broke, Disapparating back to the grounds of Malfoy Manor.

Lucius went ahead of them, up to the doors themselves; the wards would only allow a select few to open the doors, himself included. He indicated to the others to wait a moment while he ordered the house-elves to set breakfast, only to be informed that breakfast was already set for everyone in the dining room, and "Master's Lord and guest be's eatings, Master Lucius."

...Guest?

Those remaining of the Inner Circle made their way indoors; the lower ranks partook of their breakfast feasting outdoors, at long tables piled high with food by the house-elves several minutes later. Lucius was overseeing the latter arrangement from the foyer when he heard Bellatrix shriek a horrified shriek, and made his way to the dining room at a dead run, thinking there was something amiss. What could be --?

He arrived on the scene to hear the Dark Lord yawn, "Crucio," at a now-Silenced Bellatrix, sipping coffee in His usual throne. He looked...more lively than usual, if Lucius were not simply seeing things. "There you are, Lucius," his Lord observed, red eyes blinking lazily. "Sit, sit, there is much to do today..."

At about this point, Lucius noticed the occupancy of the seat to His left; he didn't immediately recognize the messy-haired figure, until they turned to look at him.

"Draco's alive," Harry Potter informed the Malfoy patriarch as though it had just occurred to him. Beside Lucius, Narcissa let out a barely-audible sigh of relief. Then the boy turned back to his plate, taking another mouthful of sausage scrambled egg.

The rest of the Inner Circle, battle-worn as they were, did not dare comment on Potter's presence -- not even Bella, though she might just still be Silenced, Lucius thought. They all took their seats at the table, generally attempting to ignore the new addition of their Lord's 'guest' for the moment in favor of eating.

Lucius couldn't quite keep his eyes off the boy, however. Potter was pink-cheeked and disheveled, and kept smiling every time his gaze went towards the Dark Lord. The sleeves on his robes were too large -- was he...wearing borrowed clothing? And at one point, the dark fabric slipped down one shoulder, exposing a number of bruises that looked very much like --

Oh Merlin. What had Bella seen that had her screaming so loudly?

He closed his eyes, rubbing at the bridge of his nose, and decided he had best not find out.

Eventually, breakfast came to an end, and their Lord rose from His chair to address them. "My most loyal," He proclaimed, sounding especially pleased, "it is my particular pleasure to inform you all that this day we shall begin the negotiations of our victory."

They all perked up, at that. /Victory?/ Lucius wondered. They'd...won?

"While there is much yet to be addressed in terms of the Light's surrender," a glance at Potter, who...flushed, /tell me that does not mean what I think it means,/ "the siege of Hogwarts Castle is concluded, effective immediately. Rewards, promotions, honors and accolades will be awarded by the end of the week."

The Dark Lord gestured to Potter to stand, then, and -- to Lucius' surprise, brought the boy to stand beside him. Thus positioned, it was very obvious that yes, those /were/ borrowed robes; where they bared the boy's torso, it was quite clear what exactly his Lord had been up to last night.

"Crucial intelligence provided in the past few hours has enabled this early conclusion to our latest battle," said Voldemort, resting a hand on Potter's shoulder. "Moreover, my Harry has agreed to endorse the treaty when it is presented to the remainder of the public..."

The rest of the words the Dark Lord spoke went right through Lucius' ears. He would have to use a Pensieve to retrieve them. Because /had his Lord just said what Lucius thought he said?/

From the shy smile on the boy's face, He had. /Dear Circe,/ Lucius thought, /may I never witness such unholy coupling in person.../

(Two weeks later, that prayer proved to be in vain.)

-end-


End file.
